The Shippers

Title: The Shippers
Author: Katherine Center
Published: May 19, 2026 by St. Martin's Press
Format: Kindle, 336 Pages
Genre: Romance

Blurb: After a whole lifetime of being bad at love, JoJo Burton decides to solve her intimacy issues once and for all at her sister’s destination wedding on a cruise ship. With the help of a little pop psychology, she diagnoses herself with a fixation on the neighborhood guy who was her her first crush and first kiss (and who just happens to be a newly-divorced wedding guest ), and she decides to woo him during the cruise for some long-delayed closure. Only problem is, her sister’s a little busy being a bride at the moment—so JoJo ropes in her childhood bestie, Cooper Watts, to be her wing man. Cooper: who RSVPed no, but then showed up, anyway. Cooper: who left town without a word four years earlier and moved to London. Cooper: who was, if she’s honest, the worst heartbreak of JoJo’s life. It’s bliss for her to see him again, and it’s agony, too—and the more they team up for Project Conquest, the more she obsesses over questions she can’t bring herself to ask.

Shipboard antics ensue in this witty, heart-tugging, childhood-friends-to-lovers romance—as JoJo and Cooper fake flirt, slow dance, share a cabin, sing duets, treat sunburns, get jealous, rescue each other over and over, and finally, at last, figure it all out in the most blissful, swoony, romantic way.

My Opinion: The Shippers hooked me right away. The opening had that fizzy rom com energy full of light, charm, and promise. But somewhere around the middle, the momentum slipped, and I found myself watching JoJo, a 29 year old commitment phobe, wander in circles trying to reenact a teenage kiss and “find herself.” And look, I enjoy a good story as much as anyone, but there’s only so long I can cheer for a grown woman who keeps tripping over herself

The big “miscommunication” at the heart of the plot? Most readers will spot it early. And that’s fine; if that’s the trope the author wants to lean into, I’ll play along. But I did spend a good chunk of the book muttering “okay, but can we please get on with it,” like I was stuck behind a slow driver in the fast lane.

This is my second Kathryn Center novel, the first being The Love Haters, which I genuinely enjoyed. That book had a fuller cast with background characters who added texture, humor, and emotional grounding. Here, we technically have a mother and grandmother, but they don’t offer the kind of guidance or maturity JoJo so clearly needs. It felt like the story kept teeing up opportunities for growth, only to let them drift away.

And the length… well, it went on a bit longer than the story could comfortably support. The miscommunication trope becomes a never ending loop, and some of the logistical leaps are so far fetched they feel like the narrative equivalent of “don’t look too closely at this part, because I had to make the story connect.” I get why the author made those choices since sometimes you need a wild detour to keep the plot moving, but it did pull me out of the story more than once.

For many readers, this rom com will absolutely scratch the itch: it’s cute, it’s breezy, and it has that signature Kathryn Center warmth. But I’m still on the fence. By the end of a romance, I want to feel like the characters have grown, like they’ve nudged each other toward becoming better versions of themselves. I didn’t quite get that with JoJo and Cooper. They’re likable enough, but their arc felt more like a loop than a climb.

In the end, it’s a pleasant read, just not the one that will stick with me the way The Love Haters did.

Fatal Fiction

Title: Fatal Fiction
Author: Karen MacInerney
Published: June 30, 2024 by Gray Whale Press
Format: Paperback, 199 Pages
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Series: Snug Harbor Mysteries #4

Blurb: The air at Seaside Cottage Books is tinged with autumn, and bookseller Max Sayers is helping her friend Denise Wilmington start a new chapter by turning the abandoned shop next door into a cozy coffee house. But when the two women dig up a decades-old rhododendron by the front walk, they uncover a grisly secret entwined with the bush's roots: a woman's skeleton, buried with a gold ring.

But Max doesn't have time to dig up dirt on old bones. The next day, a famous Maine author's bequest to the Snug Harbor library vanishes within hours of arriving. Then Max's assistant Bethany and her boyfriend Devin discover the head librarian—and Devin's new boss--strangled with a phone cord behind the circulation desk.

Suspicion quickly darkens the crisp fall air. Was Bethany's boyfriend, who had no love lost for his new boss, behind the library director's untimely death? Or is a darker, older plot hidden in Snug Harbor's leafy streets? When a curious Max finds herself the subject of the next attack, the plot arc becomes terrifyingly clear. It's up to Max to find the villain, and fast... or her next chapter may be her last.

My Opinion: *It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to grab a red pen mid chapter, but this one had my fingers twitching. Plotting gaps, “wait, what about…?” moments, and repetition that felt like déjà vu on a loop kept pulling me out of the story.

To be fair, the dual plot setup almost saved things. Just when I’d start to tire of one thread, the other would wander back in. But then the second storyline wrapped up so abruptly it read like the author glanced at the page count and thought, oh no, I need to land this plane right now, even if it is only 199 pages. It’s the kind of rushed ending that makes you flip back a few pages to see if you missed something—spoiler: you didn’t, and most likely, already had it figured out.

The pacing overall felt slow and uninspired, and the repetition didn’t help. By the end, the only bright spot was that the main female character wasn’t romantically entangled with the small town detective. Which was good since, the police could care less about the dead guy in the library.

And here’s the bigger realization this book nudged forward: I’ve outgrown this corner of the self-published cozy mystery world. Too many of these stories need a second set of editorial eyes to catch the missteps before they hit readers. I used to overlook that. Now it just grates.

So, much like the author’s Gray Whale Inn series, my time in Snug Harbor ends here. Some series fade out gently; others hand you the scissors and let you cut the cord yourself.

The Brothers McKay

Title: The Brothers McKay
Author: Craig Johnson
Expected Publication: May 26, 2026 by Viking
Format: Kindle, 368 Pages
Genre: Police Procedural
Series: Walt Longmire #22

Blurb: When Pepper McKay, one of the most hated men in Absaroka County, is found murdered on his ranch in Crazy Woman Canyon, suspects aren’t in short supply. But Sheriff Walt Longmire’s attention is on those who had gathered for a family meeting that evening, McKay’s very different sons: a smooth-talking charmer, a cosmopolitan journalist, a reclusive monk, and a half-Native ranch hand who keeps the place running. Each had a motive. Each claims he’s innocent.

As Walt investigates what happened that night at the O-Kay Lodge, he’s pulled into a tangle of old grudges and long-buried secrets. Then the case takes a sharp turn: a second body surfaces, and a wildfire tears through the canyon, trapping Walt and forcing him into a fight for his life as both the killer and the elements close in.

The twenty-second novel in the Longmire series, The Brothers McKay is a murder mystery and a survival thriller that tests the sheriff’s hard-won sense of justice—all while paying sly homage to Dostoevsky’s classic.

My Opinion: Book twenty two, and Craig Johnson is still out here proving he can take Walt Longmire anywhere he wants with his philosophical detours, historical rabbit holes, and the occasional “wait, why are we learning this?” sidebar included. And honestly, that’s part of why this series remains one of my favorites. When Johnson steps away from the woo woo elements that sometimes drift into the supernatural, the books settle into that grounded, wry, quietly intense rhythm that hooked me in the first place.

This one, The Brothers McKay, is basically Johnson showing you everything he has: autopsy tidbits, chess strategy, Wyoming history, religious quotes, car maintenance, heavy machinery, and if he can wedge it in, he will. It’s like he’s saying, “Sit tight, we’ll get to the mystery… eventually.” And he does, but he takes the scenic route while muttering about something philosophical.

Lucien shows up, and as usual, I can take him or leave him. Victoria remains her annoying self. But Henry Standing Bear? Always a win. His presence sharpens the story. His intensity and dry humor have a way of grounding Walt every time he steps onto the page, making the whole book feel more alive. Most importantly, he brings out a funnier, more self aware version of Walt.

As for the mystery itself, apparently, the clues were there, and I missed them. I really thought it was the other guy, and it wasn’t until the final stretch, when Johnson finally snaps all the pieces together, that I had that “ohhh, that’s what we were doing” moment. The first 80% is a slow simmer, but the last 20%? Clear your schedule. Sit down. Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Just read.

And then there’s the literary twist where Johnson is retelling The Brothers Karamazov. Thankfully, a certain not so incarcerated visitor in Walt’s open door jail cell spells that out for the reader. I’m not suddenly inspired to tackle the Russian classic, but I did poke around enough to appreciate what Johnson was doing. The parallels are clever, the themes surprisingly fitting, and the whole thing adds a layer of depth.

In the end, The Brothers McKay is a slow, wandering, detail stuffed ride that rewards your patience with a finale that hits hard. Johnson may take his sweet time, but he knows exactly where he’s going. And once again, I’m glad I went along for the trip.

Daughter of Egypt

Title: Daughter of Egypt
Author: Marie Benedict
Published: March 24, 2026 by St. Martin's Press
Format: Hardcover, 352 pgs
Genre: Historical Fiction

Blurb: 1920’s London was enthralled by the discovery of the treasure-filled tomb of Pharaoh Tutankhamun. Filled with priceless statues, jewels, and the gold-encased mummy of the boy Pharaoh himself, the burial site unleashed a fascination with the ancient world and revolutionized the world of archeology.

The discovery was made by Lord Carnarvon of Highclere Castle and his associate, famed archeologist Howard Carter. What no one knows is that without the pioneering spirit of Lady Evelyn Herbert, Carnarvon’s daughter, the tomb might never have been found. As a young woman, Evelyn was fascinated by the story of Hatshepsut, a woman who had to assume the guise of a man in order to rule Egypt. Although she brought peace and prosperity to Egypt, her male successors ruthlessly and thoroughly erased her name from history.

Lady Evelyn’s ambition to find the tomb of Egypt’s first woman ruler exposes her to life-threatening danger and pits her against archeologists who refuse to believe the tomb can be found―and certainly not by a woman. Refusing to give up, Evelyn is on the verge of success when she is suddenly forced to make an agonizing choice between loyalty to her beloved father and Carter and realizing the dream of a lifetime.

My Opinion: Marie Benedict’s Daughter of Egypt opens with the kind of dense historical preamble that will either sweep you into its current or leave you blinking and wondering when the actual story will begin. Beginning in 1919 with Eve—Lady Anne Penelope Marian Herbert, daughter of the 6th Earl of Carnarvon, who becomes fascinated with her father’s Egyptian excavations. Her chapters carry the bulk of the narrative, but it’s Hatshepsut’s voice, centuries earlier in 1486 BC, that brings the real color and vitality. If anything, the contrast becomes the novel’s most interesting tension: one woman trying to uncover history, the other fighting not to be erased from it.

The themes are unmistakable: women’s perseverance, the quiet (and not so quiet) ways women are written out of the record, the gender politics of empire, and the shadow of British imperialism hanging over every artifact Eve studies. But here’s the rub: those same details often pull you out of the story just as you’re settling in. The plot moves slowly, the digressions pile up, and before long, the book starts to feel less like a novel and more like a very long, very embellished lecture.

Then comes the shift back to Hatshepsut—Princess, “God’s Wife of Amun,” future pharaoh, and the figure who fuels Eve’s curiosity. Her chapters should have been the beating heart of the book, and in flashes, they are. But the author’s note makes clear just how freely Benedict played with the historical record, and that’s where the disappointment sets in. When I read historical fiction, I want to walk away feeling like I’ve learned something real, even if the edges are softened for storytelling. Here, I couldn’t tell where the facts ended and the fiction began, and because I’m not deeply versed in this era, the whole thing left me feeling unsure rather than enlightened.

By the time I switched to the audiobook, it had drifted into background noise, which is never a great sign. Benedict is a hit or miss author for me, and this one, despite its promising premise and powerful women at its center, simply didn’t land.